


Every bad guy has it's own backstory

by fandomgalore



Category: Beowulf (Poem)
Genre: bad guy or not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7839073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomgalore/pseuds/fandomgalore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grendel is the villain at the start of Beowulf, or is he? This is the story of how Grendel ended up at the Hall on that fateful night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every bad guy has it's own backstory

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this story was a task for English in high school. The task was to rewrite the story and turn the bad guy into the good guy. It was not allowed to make it any longer than one page, which is why it is this short. We never read the text or watched an adaption of it, we only worked with a summary so there is not much in depth characterisation. English is not my first language so any mistakes are mine, because I lost the marked copy and I don't remember whether I changed it on my computer. Hope you enjoy and please tell me when there are grammar mistakes.

Life hadn’t been easy for me. Well it had been when dad was alive, but he passed away when I was seven. After that my mum began drinking and hitting me. If my mum came home really drunk, I would make it out of the house through the window in my room. After that I would walk through the area. I saw Hrothgar building his great hall near my home. I passed it every day because I wanted to build something like that when I was older, but that was impossible. I had never been to school so I didn’t know how to build something big. Of course I could teach myself but who would hire me? So I satisfied myself with watching others doing it.

When the builders had finished the hall, one of them came up to me.   
‘Haven’t I seen you here before,’ he asked very friendly.  
‘I don’t know sir,’ I answered politely. ‘I have been here before, but I don’t know whether you have seen me.’  
‘Yes, I do think I’ve seen you here before. Do you like the hall?’  
‘Oh, yes, sir. It’s beautiful. It’s the reason why I’m here.’ “And partly so that my mum doesn’t hit me,” I thought.  
‘Well, would you like to have a tour around the hall?’  
My eyes widened. Is he really offering me a tour through that amazingly beautiful hall? I nodded.  
‘I would love that sir.’  
‘Come on then, and please, call me Éothain,’ he said.  
He showed me everything in the hall. The pillars, the ornaments, everything. I could walk through this hall all day and still find new details. It was so beautiful that I hadn’t got eyes enough to see everything.  
‘Did you like it,’ Éothain asked.  
All I could do was nod. I had tears in my eyes of happiness.   
‘It was beautiful,’ I said, pushing back my tears.  
‘I’m glad you liked it boy,’ Éothain said, ruffling my hair.  
‘You are a great builder, master Éothain.’  
‘Thank you, boy, but I normally work with horses. I train horses to be fearless in battle.’  
My eyes popped out by hearing that.

Days later my mum was drunk again and had beaten me up. I had ran out of the house towards the great hall. I hoped that Éothain was there to comfort me. It turned out differently. I heard noises from inside the hall so I thought it were just the workers. They weren’t. I ran the hall in only to hear swords being drawn the moment I ran in. In a panic I hit the first person trying to grab me. I never meant for him to die, he just did. I managed to keep the other men of me and I stumbled back towards the door. Until this one man grabbed me. I didn’t know his name and I didn’t really care at that moment. I tried to free myself, but the man was strong. He kept holding on. His sword was coming dangerously close to my throat. I gave one last effort to free myself. It worked although I lost my arm doing so. I ran out, back home. I got back inside through my window. I would tell my mum what had happened when she was sober. If I told her now, she would probably kill me. My arm, or rather my shoulder, hurt like hell and wouldn’t stop bleeding.   
Minutes past and I was starting to feel light-headed. Two hours later I started to see black spots in front of me. I knew I had to do something to stop the bleeding. I tried to stand up but as soon as I tried to, I fell down, almost fainting. Another hour later, I couldn’t see anything else than black. I fainted and laid there, unconscious. After that, nothing hurt anymore and nothing mattered anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> So just a little explanation as to why I chose Éothain as the name for the builder. Éothain comes from the Old English words eoh: warhorse & þegn: servant.


End file.
